He had just popped out
Or so it seemed
His daughter said to me
His house his room
Now like a dream
Of how things used to be
All her cards collected kept
And notes lying here and there
Observations written
Left in books
Hanging in the air
And precious words he spoke to her
Just before he died
Remember those who went before
And live life well he sighed
And now the annual Christmas card
Arriving in my door
The dark black ink I recognise
Siobhan Siobhan a stor
Brian Fahy
22 December 2021
Erris Poetry 